


Saved by the Sommelier

by justanotherbusyfangirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-06 20:42:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16840051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justanotherbusyfangirl/pseuds/justanotherbusyfangirl
Summary: Your bad date gets better with some help from the sommelier.





	Saved by the Sommelier

You sighed for what seemed like the hundredth time in the past hour. You were currently on a first date, a _blind_ date, and the guy was a total dud. 

You had to admit, he was attractive, and obviously loaded, as he brought you to the most expensive restaurant in town, but he had absolutely no personality. You didn’t think someone could talk about the stock market for so long and in so much detail, but this guy must be going for the world record lecture length.

You took another long gulp of wine, finishing off your glass, and stared at it, imagining how cool it would be for someone to invent an auto-filling wine glass. You definitely would need more to drink, the way the night was going. You had barely gotten through the appetizers, and wished you had already finished a bottle.

You looked back over to your date to see that he was getting up – did he excuse himself to use the restroom? you hadn’t been listening – and you smiled at him before he walked toward the back of the restaurant.

Once he was out of sight, you slumped back in your seat. You were disappointed – you had gotten all dolled up in a fancy-shmancy knee-length dress, done your hair and make-up to a T, and even put on heels. You never wore heels. 

You heard a throat clearing next to you and looked up to see the sommelier standing there with your choice of wine in his hand. “Refill, ma’am?” He asked, with a small smile on his face. You smiled back, noticing how attractive he was. His long brown hair fell into his eyes a bit as he looked down at you, and his 5 o’clock shadow looked good on his handsome face.

“Desperately, thank you,” you replied, holding your glass out for him. He filled it and you immediately downed half of it, holding it out again. 

He chuckled, and refilled your glass again. “That bad, huh?”

You smiled again at his comment. “You have no idea. I am bored out of my mind here. Any fire alarm I can pay you to pull to get me out?”

The sommelier glanced back toward the restrooms, and then looked back at you. “I don’t know about that, but if you seriously want an out, do you trust me?”

You looked up at him again, seeing the sincerity on his face. “Yes.” He nodded and walked away, keeping eye contact with you for a few paces before he had to turn around. You didn’t know why, but you had no problem trusting this complete stranger. You were sure that he would help you get out of your horribly awkward evening.

By the time your date had sat back down at the table, you had finished your wine, again. He noticed and was eager to show off his influence over the waiters, catching the attention of your new sommelier friend, and waving him over to refill your glass. The sommelier came over to your table with two bottles in hand, presenting one to your date. 

Mr. Obnoxious nodded his approval, and the sommelier turned toward you, hovering far enough over the table to block your date’s view of your wine glass. He caught your eye, gave you a small smile and a wink, and poured the second bottle all over the table and your lap.

You immediately shrieked and jumped out of your seat, the wet puddle in your lap dripping down your legs. Your sommelier “friend” started apologizing profusely, setting the bottles down on the table, and grabbed your arm and purse. 

Your date, who at this point had risen as well and started yelling about the incompetency of the service at this high class restaurant, brought the attention of the entire restaurant to your table. His loud voice covered up the sommelier whispering in your ear, “Just trust me,” before he turned to your date and said louder, “I’ll take her to the back, we have just the thing to take care of this, sir. Apologies.”

He tightened his grip on your arm and strongly guided you to the back of the restaurant, past the restrooms, and into what you could only guess was the staff break room. Once you were there, you ripped your arm from his grip and turned on him. 

“What the hell, dude? You tell me to trust you and then you go and ruin my dress!” You were angry about your dress, which was expensive. The way you looked tonight had been the best part of your evening.

He smiled at you, which only made you more angry, before saying, “I didn’t spill wine on you, the bottle I spilled was just water.” For the first time you looked down at your dress and legs, and noticed that there was no stain. Yes, you were wet, but he was right – it was just water. Upon that realization you sighed with relief for your dress. You looked back up at him sheepishly and realized how much you actually had to look up at him. He was very tall, well over six feet, which towered above your small frame, even with the three-inch heels you had on.

“Oh,” was all you could force out, feeling very awkward. He handed you your purse and led you to the couch on one side of the room. He went to the kitchenette area and grabbed a hand towel before heading back to you. You took the towel and wiped the water droplets from your legs before holding it against your dress, pressing the already drying water out.

“So I have momentarily gotten away from my horrible date, thanks to you, but now I only have the option to go back…” You were trying to figure out how his plan was supposed to get you out of the _rest_ of your date, not just ten minutes of it.

The sommelier headed back toward the door, before turning back and giving you a ‘wait here’ sign. You nodded, and he disappeared back toward the front of the restaurant, leaving you alone in the break room. 

You stood, wiping the rest of the water from your dress, and took the towel back to the rack it had come from, letting it hang to dry back out. You heard loud voices from the front of the restaurant, assuming your date was upset with the sommelier again, and bit your lip, worrying. You hoped the sommelier didn’t get in trouble with his managers for causing yet another scene.

A few minutes and a couple paces around the room later, and the sommelier came back in, hand sweeping his hair back and out of his face. “All good!” he claimed, stopping in front of you.

“What happened?” you asked, wondering what exactly he did, and how the situation was ‘all good’ as he claimed.

“Ah, I just went back out to your date, claimed that the wine I spilled ruined your dress and you got a cab from the back of the restaurant to take you home, as you were obviously mortified for him to see you so disheveled. I told him you’d call him later…” He left off the end in a bit of a question, looking at you.

You scoffed at the suggestion. “Definitely not calling him, no way,” you joked, letting out a deep breath. “Thank you so much…I don’t even know your name!”

“Sam.” You offered your hand to shake his.

“Y/N. Nice to meet you, Sam, and thanks for rescuing me. My knight in shining armor!” Your inner dramatic came out, and it made Sam laugh. You liked making him laugh, as it gave you a chance to see his dimples.

“So now I need to figure out a _real_ ride home…” You turned back toward your purse on the couch.

Sam shuffled behind you, “My shift actually ends in about 10 minutes, I’d be happy to drive you home. Maybe stop and get some edible food on the way?” Your back was still to Sam, and your eyebrows raised at the smooth and easy way he asked you on a date. **_Is_** _he asking me on a date? Or do I just **want** him to be asking me on a date?_

You turned back to Sam and smiled. “Sounds perfect, Sam. Can I just hang out in here?”

Sam beamed and nodded. “Yea, my manager knows you’re hiding back here, so it’s no biggie. I’ll be back soon!” And with that, Sam was back out the door, leaving you alone again.

You took the time alone to freshen up your make-up from the small supplies you had in your purse. Once you were satisfied with yourself, you began to pace around the room, letting your dress dry the rest of the way. You really didn’t want to sit in a car with Sam with a wet dress on. Luckily, the material was light and drying quickly. 

Once it was dry enough, you sat on the couch and pulled out your phone. You sent a quick text to your co-worker – the one who had set up the horrible blind date – explaining that the night didn’t go well and you’d see her on Monday morning to explain. You weren’t very close with her, but appreciated her effort at helping you get a date. Who knew, maybe the night wouldn’t be a complete disaster…

At 8 pm on the dot, Sam walked through the door back into the break room. He smiled at you, seemingly relieved you were still there. “Just gimme a sec and we can head out, okay?”

You nodded at him, “Yea, works for me.” Your eyes followed him as he went over to the bay of lockers, putting in his combination and opening one. His back was toward you, and you couldn’t help but rake your eyes over his body – his long legs, under snug, black dress pants that fit very nicely over the curve of his ass. 

By the time your eyes had made it up to his back, you realized he was unbuttoning his white dress shirt and taking it off. Your breath hitched as you saw his back muscles flex under the basic wife-beater he wore as an undershirt. All you wanted in that moment was to go over to him and rub your hands all over his muscles.

He messily folded his work shirt and put it in a gym bag, grabbing a more casual light-blue knit button up to put on. He turned toward you as he was rolling up the sleeves and noticed your staring.

“So I know you didn’t get far in your dinner out there, can I treat you to a more normal night out?” Sam smiled.

You cleared your throat, unsure of the sound that would come out after the show he probably didn’t mean to give you. “I’m up for whatever. Just nothing 4-course and fancy please.”

He nodded at your comment, grabbed his gym bag and closed his locker. He held his arm out to you, “M’lady.”

You stood, grabbing your purse in one hand and his arm with the other, “Good sir.” You bowed your head slightly toward him and you both laughed. He escorted you out the back door of the restaurant to the staff parking area, where he opened the door of his car for you. You got in his black Dodge Charger, glad that he didn’t have a boring car like your Honda Civic, or a super fancy car like your blind date’s Ferrari. You like a man who felt he had nothing to make up for in his choice of car.

Sam got in and started driving, telling you about how you weren’t the first young woman the staff at the restaurant had ‘saved,’ as many rich men would bring dates who ended up feeling uncomfortable for a variety of reasons, but you were Sam’s first personal save. You laughed at a couple of the more outrageous stories, of some celebrities or handsy old men who were put in their place by the wait staff or managers. You were glad that Sam wouldn’t get in trouble for causing a scene, and felt your stomach jump when Sam mentioned that he hadn’t personally gotten involved with an awkward date before tonight.  
By the time Sam pulled up to an outdoor taco joint, the two of you were laughing and it felt like you had known him for years, instead of just over an hour. He ran around the car to open your door for you, which felt ridiculous and much too formal once the two of you sat at a picnic table for your dinner. Your fancy, boring date night had turned into a casual, fun evening with your surprising new friend (date?).

You told Sam about your work and how one of your co-workers had set you up on this blind date, but that you’d never trust her to do so again. Sam told you how he was working as a sommelier to save up for law school, but he actually quite enjoyed his job in the meantime. By the end of the night you were laughing at each other’s childhood memories, and you couldn’t help but hope that Sam would want to see you again.

As he drove up to your apartment complex a couple hours later, you paused in the car. He leaned over and kissed your cheek, pulling back immediately, “I’m so sorry, I don’t mean to be forward.” 

Before he could keep blubbering, you pulled his face in for a proper, chaste kiss. “You’re not being forward, you’re just my knight in shining armor who turned an otherwise horrible evening into one I will never forget.” You kissed him once more, before opening your car door.

“Come in and tell me all about my really bad wine collection?” You asked, hopeful that he would want to continue the evening.

“I’d love to, Y/N,” Sam smiled, and ran around the car to grab your hand and join you on your trek up to your apartment. 

You silently hoped that by the time you got inside, he would have forgotten about your cheap wine collection and you could continue your impromptu date with other, more _entertaining_ activities.


End file.
